Dancing in Circles
by xghostwriter
Summary: "Yet you still lied for me, to make sure my last breath was not taken alone. I never got to thank you for that." ::: Lazard x Knife :::


Title: Dancing In Circles

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII (Crisis Core/Before Crisis)

Pairing: Lazard Deusericus/Knife

Warning: There will be mild alcoholism in this piece. Implied Suicidal thoughts and character death.

Summary: Lazard Deusericus met her at a time he needed her and tried so hard to keep her. But she left like a whisper into the wind.

Notes: I noticed lack of Knife love and little to no Lazard love. So I put the two together and got this. Please enjoy.

* * *

_"Every night you watch me kill myself."

* * *

_

The smash of the bottle echoed through the air, the thud of the blond falling to his knees lingered in the air longer then it should have. His heart pounded agonizing against his rib cage, his icy blue eyes unfocused to his surroundings. His pale skin seemed to be paler, maybe even a light greenish color adding to his face. His stomach twisted and turned, his throat burning with either the alcohol or the vomit that seemed to want to escape him. His glasses were discarded feet away from his fallen form, blue eyes wept like they had for so many nights before.

The woman in the doorway stood silently, no emotion showing on her pale face. Her dark eyes stared out from behind the few strands of her short hair, her curvy figure accented by the uniform she wore. The navy blue suit fitted to show her curves and slender nature, and as she moved forward, her tie brushed between her white under shirt. Her heels clicked with each step, until the sound echoed out when she stopped. She leaned down in front of him, placing one of her gloved hands against his pale cheek.

"Lazard, can you hear me?" Lazard could and grunted in response to her question, causing the girl to smile softly at him. Her long fingers brushed against his tear stained cheek, seemingly trying to ruin his beautiful skin of the tears that had been shed. She felt her tense muscles relax, he was better then last time and that would be easier for the female to handle. "Director, look at me. Come on. _Look at me_. Talk to me."

Lazard didn't even try to respond, his body trembled as he tried to stop himself from looking at her. He could do anything but that; _anything but that, Director Deusericus, anything._ He could not allow himself to fall victim to her demands, if he did then he would be alone in this room once she got him to bed. Yet his blue eyes stilled moved to her, tears leaking from behind the eyelids. His eyes begged her not to leave him, that he couldn't make it through this without her help. He watched as tears lightly formed within her eyes, a frown taking over her professional expression.

"Lazard…" His head turned at the sound of his name leaving her lips. She cupped his face with her palms, forcing him to turn back to her — easy considering how wasted he was. Her head shook lightly, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "She would not want you to do this to yourself. She did not work so hard to have you rot away in this manner."

He didn't respond to her statements, he couldn't find it in himself to do anything but stare at her. His eyes forced in and out, glazed over with his alcohol intake. Yet he could feel her breath on his cheek, her hands gently grabbing his shoulders. He knew she was worried, but he also knew that it was part of her job. She was to ensure the safety of the higher ranked Shinra Employees, mostly the President. However upon hearing the death of Lazard's mother, The President ordered his SOLDIER Director to be watched by a few members of the Turks.

It began with Reno, Rude, Tseng, and the girl kneeling in front of him. Lazard had dismissed the all, still Tseng watched his office and the girl always showed up by midnight to ensure he hadn't drank himself into a coma. If he had been in a better state, Lazard probably would have chuckled bitterly at the thought. Mostly due to the fact that by the time she did get there, he was more or less close to a comatose state. Much like he was on this very night; yet she would stay by him until dawn, or until she got a call for work.

_You are pathetic, Lazard Deusericus. _He thought bitterly in his drunken state, turning his unforced gaze away from her. _You depend on her. Her words of your mother are comforting. You cannot keep her like this — pathetic slum rat. _

"I know what it's like, Lazard. Losing your family, feeling alone." Lazard's eyes moved upward and met her teary gaze, his heart seemed to break all over again. Yet the girl seemed to recover from her emotions quickly, moving to his side slowly and draping one of his arms over her shoulders. Her arms locked around his waist and helped him off the floor, trying to help him to the bed. "Let's get you to bed, rest will do you some good."

"**No**."

Her gaze snapped over to him as he struggled against her, she tried to keep his swaying form under control. She might have been a highly trained Turk, but this man was larger then she was — not to mention, drunk and clumsy at the time as well. "Lazard, Sir. You have to stop moving around like this. It's time to take you to bed."

"You didn't know her." He growled despite himself, his body stopped struggling and his eyes closed. He heard her breath catch in her throat, his skull began to pound madly. He flinched at the sudden pain, his eyes opened and unfocused once more. "You don't know how things were. He left. She was **ill**. I _promised _her. I gave my word that I would help her. I did nothing. I face him everyday. **Nothing**. I do nothing. I say nothing. Now she's dead. **Gone**." _It's all my fault. _

She stared at the broken and drunk man, shock and discomfort showing in her eyes. She could almost sense his self loathing, the way he blamed himself for everything. She had to do something for him, something to stop him from continuing to live like this. _He deserves many things, but this is not one of them. But how? _"You shouldn't blame yourself. You did try, you raised in ranks, you fought hard to get where you are. But he held you back until she perished."

"I.." Lazard stared like an unsure children, his anger seemed to fade for a few moments. His mind raced as he towered over the small Turk, his body turning and arching to lean down to her. His face inches away from hers as he held her gaze, an unknown emotion lurking in those deep blue eyes. _Pathetic, Lazard, you know this is wrong. Don't you dare do this to her, she doesn't want __you__. _"Knife…"

"Lazard. You're drunk," Knife responded as she leaned away. "Don't do something you're going to regret."

_See you filthy Slum Rat. Nothing wants anything to do with you, I'm sure that your mother died just to escape you._ The voices within his head mock him, teased and tormented him. He found he could rid himself of the voices as long as he wasn't in the state he was in. Yet even he knew that they spoke the truth; he was nothing more then just a 'filthy slum rat'. _Besides that, it's not like you deserve someone like her. You don't deserve anyone, Filthy Slum Rat. _

He found himself straightening up, the look on Knife's face seemed to relax a bit. He felt her moving forward and clumsily followed after her, his mind screaming threats and insults at him. He ignored it the best he could, his eyes trailing to the woman at his side — he was a fool. He depended to much on her, and she only watched him slowly kill himself. His feelings were wrong and one sided, he knew this for a fact; he was a slum rat with no hope, she was at the top of the Turks. However, it didn't kill the little hope that he had.

He snapped out of his trance when Knife stopped walking, his eyes snapped to the bed nearby. His body swayed as she released him, his blue orbs moving back to her in question. She only frowned at him and crossed her arms against her middle, motioning with her head for him to get into the comfortable bed. He hesitated but still stumbled and leaned on the bed, his eyes still glued on the Turk. He frowned as she narrowed her eyes, giving him a warning that he needed to get into bed.

Hesitating, the director collapsed onto the bed and turned his back to the Turk. He knew she was going to leave now that he was unable to cause anymore trouble, that he would be alone the moment the door shut. He waited for that sound of the door, he waited for that empty feeling to come to him like it always did on these dark nights. Much to surprise the feeling didn't come, the sound never came — everything was silent, besides the sound of Knife's quiet breathing. His eyes moved over his shoulder, noticing her standing there with a tore look on her face.

"Knife?"

"I'm sorry, Sir." She spoke quietly while turning, heading towards the door. He could have swore he heard her sob, his heart wrenching slightly. "I cannot do this anymore. Goodbye."

* * *

_"You walked away and I was left alone, alone to drown in my own self pity and loathing. I don't blame you for hating me, I hate myself as well. As time passes, I know my heart beat slows."

* * *

_

He felt wore and tired, his eyes seemed glazed over and hair seemingly losing color. His suit ripped and tattered, also losing the deep colors of blue. His normally somewhat paled face now was a deathly shade of white, almost like the once lively man was fading quickly. He cursed his choices, which were due to his self loathing and loneliness, but could blame no one other then himself. In honesty, the man was fading and rotting away — Hollander told him that he should be proud, being the first Human Clone of Angeal. Lazard could not find it in himself to be proud of his state, and knew that it was only going to get worse.

He had left everything behind; Shinra, his rank, the one that owned his heart. However he could not rid himself of the feelings, or the voices that haunted him. They continued to call him pathetic and nothing other then a Slum Rat, yet there was a new voice — this one spoke of him in a different light, yet he had no idea why. He was all the things that the rude voices called him, the bitter little slum rat, hopeless and lost. The hope that he once held, that Knife would be able to save him, gone like the light at nightfall.

Now she had found him, slumped over against a cliff side and rotting away. He could only find himself staring at her disgusted expression, like she knew that he had done this to himself. He could see her lips twitching, trying to turn that disgusted thin line into a deep frown. He felt more regret then he had when he had failed his mother. The women of his life were people he seemed to always let down, and it certainly broke his decaying heart. _You let everyone down, not just the women. Why do you think you deserve the pain that you are put through, punishment for your ways. You are just like your father, all you do is cause harm, Slum Rat._

"Look at you," she finally spoke as she knelt down. Her eyes trailed over his decaying form, tears began to form on the rim of her eyes. "Look at what you've done to yourself, Sir."

"Don't call me that." He demanded, his heart aching at the sight of the woman. "I do not work for Shinra anymore. I know your orders, your orders to kill me on sight. Do them, Knife, do me that final favor."

She shook her head, "No. I will not."

"Why?"

She almost cringed at the bitterness of his tone, but quickly recovered. She knew he was hurting and remembered how, in the past, she would have fixed a situation in which he was hurting. She lifted her hand and placed it on his cold flesh, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "Because you don't deserve it. I know why you did this, Lazard, and don't you dare lie. You did this for her, you were getting revenge."

"Shut up." He growled despite himself, shifting to force himself up and away from her touch. Her words had hit something inside of the ex-Director hard, but he wouldn't allow her to know he still longed for her, for her and her guidance. "You are under my Father's command, so do what you were commanded to do."

"Lazard, look at yourself." The female growled back as she stood, clutching her fists as she stood her ground against the man. "You think you're the only one who hates The President? You can't do this by yourself, I mean, honestly, Lazard, look at your state. You can hardly stand, let alone probably fight! Let me help!"

"Knife…" He frowned and turned his head, not wanting to look at her. "I'm sorry."

"Laz — What?" Her eyes widened as feathers soon floated through the air, her stomach twisting at the sight of the wing now resting on Lazard's back. "… what did you do to yourself?"

"Things change." He commented dryly, "As do people. I am sorry, Knife."

Knife parted her lips to speak but could not find the words she wanted to. Her body trembled as she took a step forward, only to have him step back. Her vision blurred slightly with tears, heart aching as she turned her head. "You are forgiven…"

"Thank you."

Her eyes turned back to him just in time to see a smile gracing his expression, unlike the fake ones that he normally wore, this held truth. She offered a weak smile of her own as the wing moved, the man attached to it took off into the sky. Her hand trembled as she reached into her pocket, pulling out the small phone within her pocket. She knew what was happening as she dialed Cissnei's number, her heart ached against her ribcage. "I won't let you die alone, Lazard. You don't deserve that."

"Cissnei speaking." Cissnei's voice echoed out moments later, not surprising Knife one bit. "What is it Knife?"

"Angeal Hewley has been spotted," Knife lied into the phone. "I believe you should alert everyone."

"But how—"

"I don't know." She spoke dryly, "But I saw him."

"Understood."

* * *

_"Yet you still lied for me, to make sure my last breath was not taken alone. I never got to thank you for that; I would have told The Puppy to, but I knew, somewhere inside of myself, that he was never going to make it. Thank you, my love, for all you tried to do."_


End file.
